The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-08-06
A CHILD AGAIN.
Youth,s Companion.

This is fragment of the story of Jane -, her last name, fortu- nately, is not known-as told by the matron of one of our great city prisons:
 "I was sent for, late one night, to see her. The keeper of that ward said something unusual ailed the girl. I hadn't seen her when she was brought in. She was lying on her col, laughing softly and whispering to herself.
 "'What's your name?' said I, pretty sharply, for l was cross enough. That was the tenth time I'd been called up that night.
 "She laughed again, and it startled me, the voice and the laugh were so weak.
 "'How funny you are, Aunt Pruev ? she said. You don't know Jenny 2 and then she went on talking as before to some Polly, telling her of the les- son at school, and of some new ribbon on her hat, and that she had to finish milking before they could go out
 "'Father,' she said, says he'll sell Juny, an she's my own COW. I raised her from a calf, you know, Polly.'
 "Then she got to talking of the bas- kets and berries and games, fancying she was at school picnic. I saw she had been country child, and thought she was at home again on the farm.
 "She was little bit of thing, and not old, either, but her face showed what she'd been through. I called the doctor. When he was examining her she fell off into stupor, but she reused when 1 tried to get her to take some medicine. She would not take it, laughing at me, but she was a very gentle little body, too.
 "'Won't you take it for Aunt Prue, Jenny?' I said, humoring her. So then she swallowed it. You forgot the jellie, aunty,' she said, and then she dozed off, now snd then talking of some baby, her little sister, think, as if she was just child again.
 "I've seen men hung, and some others die of delirium tremens in the prison, but there was something more awful in this girls death than in any of the others. She had been so vile a woman, and she'd forgot it all, and thought herself just an innocent child {!
 "The doctor was called off. I can do nothing here anyhow he said. The woman was dying when she was brought in. She's badly hurt. Don't leave her.
 "Of course I wasn't going to leave her.
 "Perhaps you know a hymn?' l said to her, 'or some verses?' I usually leave that kind of talk to the chaplain 1; but he wasn't there, and she was going fast, and I had to say it.
 "Her eyes were shut. Hymn? Hymn-yes, mother,' she said, and she began to sing Jesus, lover of my soulv She had sweet voice, but it was most gone. When she came to Leave, oh leave me not alonep she opened her eyes, and said, Sing mother. Won't you sing? It's so long since P-Then she stared around and stopped.
 "She had come to herself. She saw her clothes all mud and her bloody | lldutts. IHcTt was d Ult OI lOOkl1lg- glass on the cell wall one of the pris- oners had left, and there she saw her face all bloated and pimpled.
 "She caught hold of my arm and shrieked out, Am I Jenny? Is this a jail?' and then, thank God! she sank back in stupor. The keeper came in and told me she was a girl who had come up to town and fallen into bad company, and run down as low as & woman could get.
 "She did not come to her senses again. She talked to herself and laughed a little in a childish way. She had gone back to the farm again. And just before the end I heard her say, Leave me not alone Jesus, lover of my soulv
 "I think He was near her.
 "She died, and was buried in Pot ter's field. There's a lot of them goes that way. 1 never heard her real name. But in spite of all, hope He was near her at the end.n